Set after Summer Knight but before Something Borrowed.

"Fresh out of unicorn tail. What's next on the list?"

"Uh. Valerian root," said Bob.

"And if I was valerian root, I would be...?"

"Indigenous to Europe and parts of Asia," he supplied. The pages of the steamy romance novel fluttered as he read, muttering his frustration at a fade-to-black scene in the latest installment of a series he particularly enjoyed.

My mistake, giving him the book before we started, but it had been the only way to bribe him into helping with the inventory at all. l stared at him, rubbed at my temples and sighed. "And if it was in the lab, it would be—"

"Oh, uh, in the box under the table."

I knelt to dig through the plastic box, searching through jars and coffee cans. Doing the yearly rundown of supplies usually took a day or two. My assistant was brilliant, but not so much for focusing on the task at hand.

"It's not here."

"That's because we're out," he said brightly. "Boss, there's someone at the door."

"I'm not expecting anybody. Probably the internet sales guy again." I heard a distant knock. "Dude just won't take a hint."

"And now they're inside," he continued, curious. "Huh."

I heard light footsteps, the click of the door swinging shut. There were very few people who could come inside without tripping the wards, so it had to have been—

"Hello?" a woman's voice called from the apartment above. "Anybody home?"

"Ooh, it's your girlfriend," the spirit leered. "The fun one, with the chainsaw."

"She's not my—" I smacked my head on the underside of the table as I moved to stand. "Ow."

"Dresden?" The footsteps drew nearer. "I hope you don't mind, the door was unlocked so I let myself in—"

"Invite her down, I want to meet her—"

"No," I hissed, prodding at the knot already forming on the back of my head.

"Hey," the spirit called in an imitation of my voice so eerily accurate that it sounded like a recording. "I'm down here!"

"Can it, you little jerk." I scooped the skull up and dropped it into the empty cast iron cauldron on the table, and slammed a phone book on top. I looked up in time to see blonde hair and an upside-down smile appear in the open trap door to the sub-basement.

"Hey," said Murphy. "Nice lair."

"Thanks?"

"What are you doing down here?" she asked, squinting at the burners and flasks on the table. "Breaking bad? Or whatever the wizard version of that is?"

"Well, it is a lab."

"No, what they've got at Forensics is a lab. Labs are OSHA-compliant." Murphy climbed down a few rungs and sat on the ladder. "Harry, this is a dungeon."

"You spend a lot of time in dungeons?" I asked, trying not to smile.

"Not really my scene." She gestured vaguely, also trying not to smile. "But this meets all the qualifications."

"Which are?"

"Dark. Spooky. Lots of candles." She glanced around, eyebrows climbing. "Some dork in a robe. A shelf of… erotica?"

"Those aren't mine—" I started, then hesitated, completely unsure of how to explain Bob, much less his library.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Murphy grinned as she nodded at the open book on the table. "That one is actually pretty good. If you're into kilts."

"I liked the time travel," I admitted and her grin got a little wider. The cauldron rattled. I put both elbows on top of the phone book before it could slide away, my chin in my hands. "So what brings you by, Lieutenant?"

"Brought your check from that last case." She produced a folded envelope from her jacket pocket and handed it to me with a wary look at the cauldron. "I was going to ask if you wanted to do lunch, but you seem… busy?"

"Not at all," I said, as I stacked two heavy grimoires on top of the phone book. "Lunch sounds great. What'd you have in mind?"

"New sandwich place opened by the gym, I've been meaning to try it. I'm buying," she added temptingly.

"Even better."

"Are you sure? I don't want to take you away from anything important—" she paused and frowned as the cauldron rattled again. For a moment she looked like she wanted to ask a question, but thought better of it. Murphy shook her head and turned to climb the ladder.

"So." I followed her up and closed the sub-basement door to a string of muffled, belligerent swearing from inside the cauldron. "Kilts, eh?"

"You have no room to judge, with your weird sex dungeon—"

"It's a lab—"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dresden."

Next: Candle